In Dreams
by emw314
Summary: Giles has been having dreams. Well, bits of them, anyway. Slash.


Disclaimer: Don't own or claim rights to Buffy

* * *

><p>There was harsh breathing, and his hands clutched at the sheets beneath him. He was going to die, and there was no other way about it. His brain was not-so-slowly dribbling out of his cock and into the exquisite body beneath him as he thrust deeper in, held there by strong legs clenched around his hips. Hands glided up his back, ending at his shoulders where they gripped, and used him as an anchorage point to lift the upper body of his lover so they could lick a broad swathe across his shoulder and neck, ending with an open-mouth, sucking kiss to his adam's apple. His hands gripped the sheets, and he kept going, kept moving, kept stroking -<p>

He opened his eyes and glared at the evil alarm clock. The thing was possessed, and needed to die. It always knew when he was having that dream, and always woke him before he could figure out who the other person was. For some reason, he couldn't even be sure his lover was female. There was that little actual detail. He was actually leaning more towards a male lover, as he'd had both, and, honestly, it was rare for a woman to be quite _that_ tight. And, God, were they tight.

He groaned, and rolled out of bed. First things first, the bathroom, to tend to his _various_ needs.

* * *

><p>Xander eyed the older man as he walked to his office. He shook his head, lips thinned.<p>

Spike cocked his head. "What?" he demanded.

Xander sighed. "Well, I'm sure you know what time of month it is for Buffy," he began, finishing his shelf. "Add to that, Giles is in a mood today. A good day to just lay low, and stay out of _both_ their ways."

Spike frowned at the dark-haired man. "You can tell?" he asked, puzzled.

Xander shot him a look, then began on the next shelf. "Which one? 'Cause with Buffy, I've actually got a calendar going. Will, too. I used to keep on for Anya, but I don't see her much any more, so I've let that one lapse. Tara actually seems quite stable for some reason."

"I meant the Watcher, git," Spike sneered.

Xander shook his head. "I usually know when he's had a bad night. It's just … a vibe, I guess. A look on his face that says, 'Stay away unless you want to meet Ripper.' And not in the fun way, either," he added with a quick look at the vampire. "More in the 'will rip limbs from bodies, and stuff them up orifices definitely not meant for them.' Not that I think any orifice is meant to take a limb freshly torn from an associated body, but you get what I mean, I think."

Spike gave the boy a measuring look. "You sure you're not part demon? You white hats aren't supposed to have that kind of imagination."

"I went to school on the Hellmouth, and I've been fighting your lot since I was sixteen years old. Not to mention, Anya's idea of a bedside chat included much worse than what I just said."

Spike snorted. "I can just imagine Bob the Banker coping with that," he smirked.

Xander shook his head. "She said she doesn't talk about work to the new boyfriend. She could do it with me, since I knew all about that kind of thing, but she doesn't want to damage his masculine sensibilities." He scowled at the next shelf. "Wish she'd thought my sensibilities needed protecting. Did not need to know all that."

Spike smirked. "Don't matter what you say. Still reckon you're part demon. Pity it didn't give you magical money making abilities. Might still have the demoness."

"_Ex_-demoness," Xander corrected. "And, to be fair, it wasn't just my lack of money making ability. It was also the 'fighting the fuglies' and 'living with the 'rents' issues. And while I've corrected two of those issues, thank you very much, I'm still very much helping Buffy, et al, and not doing my utmost to live a normal, sane, long life. Hence her need to move on. I understand, and I'm cool with it."

"So what are you going to do about the Watcher?" Spike demanded.

"Nothing," Xander declared, packing away his tools. "Normal service should have resumed by lunchtime, so I'm keeping well out of it. In the meantime, I'm leaving you to it. I have work to do that's not here, and I'm going to go do it. Later," he promised.

Spike scowled. That was not fair. Explain in very clear pictures just how foul the mood could become, and how easily, and then leave him to cope with it. And he called himself a white hat!

* * *

><p>He was delirious. The hottight/sweet body beneath him was surging up to meet him, and the clash of their pelvises was almost enough to leave bruises.

"Please," whispered/muttered/breathed, desperate, not him.

"God, Giles, please," his lover spoke again, and this time he was sure it was a man's voice, though that was all he could determine.

He pounded, delirious, into this man's body, wanting (needing) this man, needing (wanting) to come, wanting, needing to _know_. He raised his head, and tried to focus, but his lover ducked his head, and began to lick/kiss/nibble his way up Giles' throat. He found and sucked on Giles' earlobe.

"Need you," he whispered into Giles' ear. "Need -"

The alarm tore him, once again, out of his dream.

"Bloody buggering hell," he roared into the empty air.

* * *

><p>Spike watched with narrowed eyes as the Watcher stalk into the shop. He nodded once, and stood as soon as the other man was safely inside his office. "Well, I'm off then."<p>

"But you only just got here," Willow complained. "You were going to help us research the kelthon."

"I'll be back once the Watcher's finished his little snit," Spike decided. "Sometime after lunch, I hear."

Willow bit her lip, and glanced at the closed office. "I'm pretty sure I have a, uh, maths assignment to finish. I really should get onto that. At my dorm room. Yeah."

Spike gave the redhead a sardonic look. "When's it due, then?"

Willow felt herself grow pink, and hung her head. "Next month?"

Spike smirked. "Well, we'd better get onto that, then, hadn't we?"

By the time Giles had made his way to the counter, the shop was bare of Scoobies, and associated personnel.

* * *

><p>The morning had started well. He now needed a new alarm clock after the last had a profound, if brief, introduction to the wall. He might need to get the wall socket checked out, also, just in case he'd damaged it by ripping the bloody thing out of the wall. He'd made tea, even though the morning was perfect for coffee, and was attempting to drink it while reconciling his books.<p>

"You need to have sex," Anya announced.

Giles carefully put his teacup down, and breathed for a few seconds before looking up to consider his co-worker. "And why, in particular, do you feel the need to make this specific recommendation."

Anya snorted. "Because you're currently acting worse than a b'kkastan on heat, or Buffy at 'that time of month,'" she rolled her eyes as she made the air quotes, "and the town has run out of chocolate and ice cream."

Giles removed his glasses, and pressed his knuckles into his forehead. "Dear God in Heaven," he muttered to himself. In a louder voice, he added, "I am not that bad."

"Uh huh," Anya grunted in agreement. "Which is why, despite the fact that it's Saturday, and everyone is free, the only ones here are you and me. Oh, and Ms Kennedy," she added, raising her voice, "who's wasting our time reading the books without buying anything. Again."

Giles looked around to find that Anya had spoken the simple truth. He sighed. "I dare say I shall have to apologise to them."

"Oh, no," Anya chirped. "They all took one look at you, and disappeared before you could say anything hurtful. Of course, even _I_ can get the hint when something like that happens."

"It's just … I'm just not sleeping well," Giles frowned. "I'm sorry if I've been short-tempered, but … the lack of sleep has been frustrating me."

Anya snorted again. "I don't think it's the lack of sleep that's doing it," she argued. "When was the last time you had an orgasm? One that didn't require your own hand," she added.

"Dear God, woman," Giles protested. "Must you ask such personal questions?"

Anya rolled her eyes. "Well, it's not like anyone else is going to buck up the courage to ask, now is it?"

Giles closed his eyes, and took a deep cleansing breath. He opened his eyes. "I … I shall endeavour to … deal with my … issues," he said finally.

"Good," Anya chirped. "You know," she went on thoughtfully, "if you're not fussy about gender, I'm sure Xander and Spike haven't had sex in a while. Vampires, of course, will have sex with anything … well, with anything, end of story. And I know for a fact that Xander is not as straight as he likes to pretend he is."

"I hesitate to ask, but how, precisely, do you know?" Giles asked.

"Well," Anya began with relish, "Xander was the one who pointed Bob out to me. He went to the bathroom and, when he came out, he said that the guy in the navy pinstripe had a nice big penis, if that interested me."

Giles sighed, and rubbed his forehead again. "Be that as it may, I am not going to … jump Xander, let alone Spike, just because you think I, I _need_ to."

"Whatever," Anya dismissed with a wave of her hand. "If you want to be so grumpy that you scare away your best chances for an orgasm that doesn't come from masturbation, that's your prerogative."

Giles shuddered, and walked back to his office, determined to stay there until Anya's shift was over.

* * *

><p>Giles found himself loath to go to bed. He'd had a nice, calming chamomile tea, read a nice, soothing, utterly non-sexual book, and was dressed for sleep, and yet he couldn't bring himself to go up to his bed. He needed to sleep, but he was dreading the dreams that were coming almost nightly.<p>

Perhaps Anya was right (perish the thought!) Maybe he did need to find someone to have sex with. Although he'd rather find someone to have a relationship with, though that was difficult, given his life. Maybe he did need to look closer to home. But then his choices were pretty much limited to Spike or Xander. He groaned. One of the children he'd known since they were in high school, or a vampire. Not really a choice a man his age wanted to make. Of course, if he could ever figure out who it was that plagued his dreams, then…

He sighed. He eyed his bed. There was no putting it off. He climbed into bed, settled himself, closed his eyes, and submitted to Morpheus.

* * *

><p>He lay back on rumpled sheets, and pushed up against the weight pinning his hips. His hands ran over lightly haired thighs to cup around lean hips. He craned his head back and moaned as the hot, tight body rode his hard and aching cock, faster and harder as the moments flew. He felt the weight above him shift as his lover leaned forward, still driving his hips onto Giles' very happy cock.<p>

"Open your eyes," his lover ordered.

Giles opened his eyes.

* * *

><p>Xander eyed the older man worriedly.<p>

"What's the problem now?" Spike hissed.

Xander frowned. "I don't know."

"Well?" Spike demanded.

"I. Don't. Know," Xander repeated. "It's not his usual 'I didn't get any sleep, and now I'm pissed off at the world' thing. It's more … I don't know. It's like he's realised something, and it's seriously freaking him out." He straightened suddenly, and turned to the vampire. "Maybe that's it. Maybe he's had some kind of sudden revelation, and it really squicked him."

"So what's the revelation?" Spike asked.

"Like I know!" Xander returned.

Spike pursed his lips, and stared at the office. He nodded, pushed away from the table.

Xander grabbed Spike. "What are you doing?" he demanded suspiciously.

"Finding out what the Watcher's up to," Spike explained.

"Oh, no," Xander argued. "Whatever it is, it's enough to spook Giles, which means it's way more than you or I want to know about."

"I'm going in," Spike advised. "We need to know, and I'm the one to do it. Watcher won't hurt my little feelings, and he knows it. He also knows I'm irritating enough to get him to talk, so he'll talk anyway, to try and avoid the irritation."

Xander snorted. "Doesn't that count as contravening the Geneva Convention?"

Spike rolled his eyes, and shrugged out of Xander's admittedly-lax grip. He entered Giles' office, nudged the door closed, and slouched into a chair. "So me and the boy figure you've realised something, and it's … what's the word the boy used?" He snapped his fingers. "Squicked you. That's it. So what is it that's bothering you now?" he demanded.

"There, there's nothing bothering me," Giles denied, turning to the filing.

"Oh, please," Spike snorted. "You spend the last month coming in like you've got blue balls each morning, and then this morning you're all … happy, but not," he finished, worrying over the description. "You finally get your end off?"

"Dear God," Giles muttered, groping for a cloth to clean his glasses with. "If it's not Anya, it's you. Pray tell me, what did I do to deserve this?" he demanded of the gods.

Spike smirked. "You just tell Uncle Spike all about it, yeah? What's so juicy you're hiding in here, then?"

As Giles turned to glare at the vampire, he shot a glance at the door so lightning-quick a lesser man would have missed it. "There's nothing," he denied.

Spike's smirk grew, and he, too, glanced at the door. "Okay, then, hard way. Let's see. You been dreaming, but not getting it off. Hell of a thing, but there it is. And today, you did. How am I going?"

Giles glowered at the man opposite him. "If you must know," he began frostily, "the entire problem has been that I – dear God, I can't believe I'm even discussing this!" He removed his glasses, placed them on the desk, and pressed his fingers to his eyes. "Very well, yes, I have been having dreams. Uh, very, um, explicit dreams," he added, flushing slightly.

Spike slouched further in his seat, and spread his legs to get comfortable. "Well, details, man. Details!"

"Go to hell," Giles muttered, pulling his drawer open for a bottle of scotch. He found a tumbler, and poured himself a good finger (or two.) He thought about it for a moment, then found a second tumbler, and poured a similar measure for Spike, and pushed it over, before returning his bottle to the drawer. He took a sip of his drink, and settled back into his chair. "I'm not telling you the details of my dreams. They, they are private, and none of your damn business."

Spike savoured his drink. "Fine, then. So what got your knickers in such a twist?"

Giles took another sip. "If you must know… I never saw his face. I, I didn't know who he was, couldn't pick the voice, none of it." He gave a huff of laughter. "For the longest time, I wasn't even sure it was a man, that's how vague the dreams were in some respects."

Spike waited for the other man to continue. When he didn't, he prompted, "And?"

"Oh, yes," Giles murmured. There was another glance flashed at the door. "Uh, and this morning, well, I, uh, I saw who it was."

Spike grinned. "It's the boy, ain't it?"

Giles stared at the vampire, mortified. "I, I…" He raised his hand to his face, only to realise he'd never replaced his glasses after removing them earlier.

"Look, it's easy, ain't it," Spike reasoned. "If it were one of the girls, you'd be all upset, angry at yourself for even dreaming about them. If it were me, you'd be much more uncomfortable talking about it. And you do keep looking for the boy, which is a dead give-away, even if I do say so myself."

Giles sat, stiff, in his chair, and said nothing. Of course, the blush touching his cheekbones told more than he was willing to utter. He took a large sip, and let it sit in his mouth a while before swallowing. "He's so young," he protested softly.

"And neither of you is willing to have a lover who don't know all our drama," Spike countered with unusual gentleness. "Which is fair," he added. "Last thing any of us need is a lover freaking out during an apocalypse. Or, worse, getting kidnapped." He snorted. "Can you imagine the boy hooking up with a total know-nothing? They'd get kidnapped together, and we'd have to rescue them, and then he'd have to try to explain it all away."

Against his will, Giles felt his lips twitch. "Er, yes. There is that. But there is also the fact that, well…"

"Boy ain't as straight as he'd like to make out," Spike offered.

Giles grimaced. "You're not the first to say that," he admitted. "Anya said much the same thing."

"Yeah? Well, I know for a fact the boy's eyed me off more than once. What's her explanation?" Spike asked curiously.

Giles felt himself blushing again, if faintly. "He, uh, suggested her current lover to her based on, er, his critique of the man's anatomy."

Spike gave a short bark of laughter. "Well, he'd know what she liked," he grinned. "So will you tell him, or will I?"

"Good God, man," Giles protested. "Don't you dare!"

"Just trying to help," Spike pouted.

Giles rolled his eyes. "As if I'd believe that!"

Spike tilted his head. "I will, though," he warned evenly. "You don't tell the boy, I will."

Giles glared at Spike. "Fine," he grunted eventually. "Just… Just give me some time, okay?"

"Okay," Spike agreed. "Not much, but some. Well," he went on, tossing back the last of his drink, "my work here is done. Things to do, places to go, people to annoy the shit out of. Stuff like that," he nodded, as he rose. He set his tumbler down on the desk, and strutted out of the office, smirking at Xander as he headed down to the basement, and the sewer access.

Xander waited. He forced himself to wait a whole five minutes for Giles to come out and talk, but nothing happened. Finally, he pushed himself up out of his chair, and stalked into the office. "So you're going to tell Spike, but not me?" he demanded, a touch petulantly. "So not fair."

Giles looked up with wide eyes, and glanced at the door, but decided that the younger man was too close to it for him to be able to make his escape. "Oh, er, well, well, Spike is, as you know, uh, very, very annoying, and he, well, he rather nagged it out of me. You, you know how he gets," he added conscientiously.

"I can be annoying," Xander pouted.

"No," Giles denied. "I'm afraid I don't find you anywhere near as annoying as, as that vampire."

Xander frowned, and nibbled on his lip in thought. "I should be able to take that as a compliment," he mused.

"It is," Giles nodded calmly.

"But I need to know what's been going on," Xander argued. "First you're like a Slayer with PMS and no Midol, and now you're actually a bit loopy this morning. So spill," he commanded.

"I am not…" Giles began. He sighed. "Dear Lord. Was I really that bad?"

"Well…" Xander drawled. "I usually took one look at your face and took off at the first available opportunity. But yeah. You were really that bad."

"I'm sorry," Giles apologised. "It's just, well, I, um, I wasn't really sleeping well."

"Oh, that was way worse than no-sleep grouchiness. That was 'haven't got laid in years' grouchiness."

Giles grimaced.

Xander's jaw dropped, and his eyes went wide. "Oh God, Giles. Say it ain't so!"

Giles rolled his eyes. "Yes, I've, uh, had sex in, in the last few years. I … there … that is to say… Band candy!" he offered eventually.

"Oh, yeah," Xander nodded. "So, uh, what was the problem, then? 'Cause my definition of your mental state still stands."

Giles shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "Well, uh, you see…" He took the opportunity to glare at the younger man, then sighed. "Oh, very well. I have been having dreams. Uh, explicit dreams," he added, flushing faintly.

Xander thought about that, and Giles could tell exactly when the proverbial light-bulb went off. Xander's eyes went wide again, and he blushed fiercely. "So, uh, explicit. That, um, you know, uh, you'd think that'd kind of make things, um, better, wouldn't they? If, uh, you know, you, uh, well…" He trailed off, finally, unable to carry the thought any further.

"Yes, well, and if I'd, I'd been able to, to finish the damn dreams, it might have been a bit better," Giles grumbled uncomfortably.

Xander blinked.

"I, er, killed two alarm clocks," Giles confessed. To Giles' delight, Xander's eyes sparkled with mirth as he tried to hold back his laughter. He snorted, smirked, then chuckled as the humour of the situation overmastered him.

"So, um, this morning?" Xander asked, once he'd calmed down. "You finally beat the clock?"

"I finally saw you," Giles murmured. "Him," he added hurriedly. "I saw him. The, uh…"

"Me," Xander breathed. "You were dreaming about me?"

Giles watched the younger man for a moment, worriedly. "Yes," he admitted. "Is, is that … a problem?"

Xander cleared his throat. "Yeah," he began softly, "not so much. I, uh, I mean, well, that is to say…"

"Yes?" Giles prompted.

"I'd kind of like to give it a go," Xander murmured.

"Give…" Giles cleared his throat.

Xander stood, walked around the desk, and held out his hand. Giles took the proffered hand, and rose to his feet. Xander tugged him closer, till they stood toe to toe, chest to chest. Xander looked up the slight height difference between them, and ran his hand up Giles' arm to his shoulder. He pulled the Watcher closer still, and gently pressed his lips to the other man's. After a moment's hesitation, Giles cupped his hand around Xander's head, carding it into the dark curls, and pressed harder into the kiss, flicking his tongue across Xander's lips. Xander opened his lips, sighing into the kiss, welcoming Giles' tongue as he tilted his head to allow better access to his mouth.

The kiss turned harder, hungrier, as a fire roared to life in the two men. Giles let his head drop back as Xander's lips left his mouth and began to make their way along his jaw to his throat while he pushed at the older man's jacket. Giles groaned as dream-memories lined up with this current experience, and he thrust his hips against Xander's. Xander clutched at Giles' shoulders, and moaned against his adam's apple as Giles thrust against his hardness.

"We need…" Xander panted against Giles' throat. "Need to…"

"We need to stop," Giles supplied, his hands clutching at Xander's hips. "Any, anyone could come in, and it's an utterly inappropriate place for, for this kind of, of activity."

Xander slid his arms around Giles' shoulders, and buried his face in the other man's neck as he chuckled breathlessly. "Only you," he murmured eventually. He raised his head, and Giles could see the amusement lighting his eyes as he cupped Giles' cheek in his hand. "Only you could kiss like that, then talk like that."

Giles grinned. "Oh, I'm not so special," he denied. "I dare say there are any number … well, maybe one or two others who would…"

"Be so proper?" Xander offered.

"Not always," Giles smiled. "I'm not always so proper."

"Good," Xander nodded. "'Cause I can't see that working out so well."

"And, besides," Giles went on, "I shall no doubt have you to, to help me … relax."

Xander wrapped his arms back around Giles' shoulders, and pulled him in for a quick, sweet kiss. "That you will." He stepped back away from Giles, then. "But you have work to do, and, as it happens, so do I."

"Must you go?" Giles asked, determinedly neither pouting nor whining.

Xander smiled. "I must. Unless you want to make out on your desk?" he tempted.

"No," Giles sighed. "But tonight?"

Xander gave a blinding grin. "Tonight. We get rid of everyone, and see if we can recreate one of your dreams."

"Bloody hell," Giles muttered. "I'm not sure I'll last."

Xander flashed Giles a look, then turned to lock the office door and close the blinds. He then stalked up to the other man, and manoeuvred him back into his chair before dropping to his knees. He looked up, still smirking. "Just so you know," he murmured as he worked Giles' zip, "I have some experience, but not a whole lot." He drew Giles already-hard cock out, and gazed at it for a long moment, before dropping a kiss on the swollen head, causing Giles to moan. He then took the head into his mouth, and began to lick and suck at it, as he stroked Giles' length with one hand, and rolled his balls in the other.

Giles clutched at the armrests, fighting the urge to thrust up into the addictive wet heat. "Bloody fuck," he whispered. "This won't take long." The warning served only to encourage Xander, who looked up at the older man through his eyelashes while his hummed around the weeping head of his new lover's cock. Giles could only hold on, and breathe, pant, try not to thrust, try not to make too much noise, until finally threw his arm across his mouth and cried out, coming hard into that sweet mouth.

He slumped in his chair, and waited for the universe to return to normal. Finally, he opened his eyes to see Xander still kneeling between his thighs, licking up the last drops of Giles' come from his face. Giles took in the dark, dilated eyes, and the lush, red mouth, and dragged him up by his shirt-front to kiss him hard, chasing the taste of himself in the other man's mouth. When he finished, Xander was half-straddling his lap, and had obviously had a very … interesting morning.

"Thank you," Giles whispered, stroking Xander's cheek. "But, uh…" he trailed off as his hand ran down to cup Xander's aching cock through his jeans.

Xander's eye fluttered shut, and he leaned into the light touch. "I'm fine," he promised. "I'll, uh…"

"You'll no such thing," Giles disagreed firmly. He swivelled the chair around, and pushed Xander back to sit on the edge of the desk. He swiftly freed the flushed and hardened member from its restrictions, and ran gentle fingertips over its length. "Beautiful," he murmured. "Lean back," he instructed, and he scooted forward. He took Xander's cock into his mouth, and took a moment to savour the taste before he began to suck. As he bobbed his head up and down the thick shaft, he ran delicate fingertips over the tight, furred balls, across the soft perineum, causing Xander to moan loudly, and thrust up a little. Smiling a little around his mouthful, Giles encouraged Xander to lift his feet onto the armrests of his chair. With Xander's legs now raised, he began to explore further, trailing his fingers down the perineum, and into the cleft between his cheeks, finding, and gently probing the tiny pucker, eliciting a soft 'yes.' He made a mental note to ensure he had plenty of lube on hand for the evening's activities even as he regretted his current inability to take his explorations any further.

Xander's breath was coming faster, little whimpers escaping every so often as he clutched for something, anything to hold onto. He stroked one hand through Giles' hair, petting, not holding, even as he reached up to grab onto the edge of the desk above his head. "Giles," he panted, "please, need."

Giles continued to tease Xander's entrance, even as Xander begged for more. The younger man seemed to be teetering on the edge of his orgasm, but not quite getting there for some unknown reason. Giles had a sudden flash of memory, and reached for the drawer, yanking it open. He fished in the drawer, and came out with a tube of hand cream. He was quite sure Xander didn't care that it was scented, being that it was Anya's hand cream, and he quickly squirted a small amount onto his fingers. Using that, he pushed onto the pucker, and inside Xander. He immediately found that perfect spot, and Xander thrust uncontrollably upwards, thankfully having taken Giles' example of covering his mouth with his arm, and roared his completion.

Giles sat back in his chair, and absently cleaned his hand has he gazed at the replete man before him. Xander sprawled obscenely on his desk, and Giles was mildly amused at the stirrings of desire within him at the sight. Still mostly clothed, Xander's spent cock lay against his belly, tempting him, once again, to take it in his mouth. He flicked his tongue around inside his mouth, chasing the taste of the other man as he waited for him to stir.

After a couple of minutes, Xander pushed himself up from the desk. He gave a loopy grin. "Wow. That was … wow!"

"Glad to oblige," Giles smirked.

"'Oblige,'" Xander returned, grinning. "Yeah. Right."

"Anything to be of service," Giles grinned.

Xander sat up, then leaned forward to rest his hands on the arms of Giles chair before carefully straddling the seated man. As he settled into place, he brought their sated cocks together, both men grinning at the sensation. Xander bent his head, and kissed Giles, a long, deep kiss, full of promise. "So. Tonight," he murmured.

"Tonight," Giles nodded.

Xander stood, then, and fixed his clothes. He smiled sweetly at the other man. "Till then." With that, he unlocked the door and walked out, making sure he closed the door again after him.

Giles gazed after his lover fondly. "Till then," he agreed. He looked at the desk. There was no way he was going to get anything done today. He rose, tidied himself, and then his desk, ensuring the hand cream was once again firmly capped, and returned to the drawer. He dawdled in his office for a while longer, straightening this thing and that, before he gave up, and left the office. He locked the door, and looked around the shop, noting gladly that Anya was with (haranguing) a customer. He offered her a simple wave, and walked out of the shop. He had some shopping to do, a flat to tidy, maybe some laundry? All kinds of busy work to fill in the time until he could chase the others away and lock the door on himself and Xander, so they could improve on the lusty, impossibly short dreams that had plagued him. He wouldn't die of frustration, not after the excellent blow-job Xander had given him earlier. Well, he was fairly certain he wouldn't die in the meantime. Rather certain, anyway.

What was Xander's cell number?


End file.
